Snowbound
by mermaidsahoy
Summary: A Holiday fanfic. Sandor and Sansa meet again on an airplane: Sandor is returning to the Lannisters after completing a job, and Sansa is going to see her family in Kings Landing for Christmas.
1. Chapter 1

**Sandor**

With a sigh of relief, Sandor sat down and stretched his legs as far as the seat in front of him would allow. He had been one of the first in line to get on the airplane, and even though he still had to wait for everyone else to board, at least he could do it sitting down. And his seat was near the front, which meant he could leave faster too.

He tried to arrange his large frame more comfortably, scowling at the suffocating space. With any luck, the seat beside him would remain empty, and he would be able to take advantage of the extra room. This being the holidays, however, his chances were slim.

Resting his elbows on the armrests, he idly watched the other passengers boarding. Most of them looked tired and confused, trying to grapple with their carry-on luggage and still fit down the aisle. As the seats around him began to fill up, Sandor started experiencing claustrophobia, and not for the first time he wished he had accepted Joffrey's offer of his private jet for this job. Sandor, ever stubborn and unwilling to raise awareness to his person, had declined, saying it would be easier if he traveled with the "peasants", as Joffrey lovingly referred to anyone who was not devastatingly wealthy. Besides, Sandor had not wanted to garner attention from the media, who would become inquisitive once they found out a Lannister jet had landed at Aramark but no Lannister was on board, only Joffrey's body-guard. That would raise even more questions as to why Sandor had left his post. No, in spite of the inconvenience, he much preferred the anonymity of traveling coach. He would be surrounded by people too wrapped up in their own problems to notice who he was, and even if they did, the curiosity would be a passing fancy, and nothing more.

As time ticked by and more people shoved luggage up into the tiny compartments, the air grew stuffy and warm. Sandor pulled off his large black winter coat, leaving on his grey sweater underneath, and set it on the other seat. Hoping that take-off would be soon, he closed his eyes and tried to relax. He was tense, annoyed by the frantic airport and now this plane, and sleep would probably be the best (and only) way to escape his surroundings until they landed. He hadn't slept in almost 48 hours, anyways.

He managed to doze for a few minutes until a flight attendant began talking through the speakers, announcing that it was almost time for boarding to end, and preparations for take-off were being completed. Satisfied that the seat next to him had remained empty, Sandor began to relax more, and he glanced out the small window, watching tech people running around, bundled in large puffer jackets.

The plane was noisy, filled with children crying or shouting and tired parents trying to hush them, but Sandor's ears perked as a gentle voice floated from the front of the plane. "I'm so sorry," the voice was saying. "The traffic getting here was horrible." "That's quite alright," the flight attendant answered. "Happens all the time. Please, find your way to your seat." Sandor rolled his eyes at the conversation and glanced towards the aisle. He froze.

Sansa Stark was making her way down the aisle, clutching her boarding pass and eyeing the numbers printed above the seats with trepidation. Her red hair was tumbling about her shoulders in loose waves, and she wore a long cream coat that hung on her slim frame in an appealing way. Her cheeks were pink, either from the cold or running to catch the flight; probably both. She carried nothing but a purse.

Sandor noticed all of these things in a matter of seconds, but that was force of habit from his job with the Lannisters. He was expected to notice details and form conclusions quickly and correctly, and he did. But what he wondered was what she was doing on his flight- oh, that's right. She went to college somewhere around here. Sandor remembered Joffrey complaining that Sansa had chosen to go away for school, but Sandor had thought nothing could have been better for the girl. She was entirely too naïve; living somewhere else, being on her own, and most importantly having distance from Joffrey, would hopefully open her eyes a little.

Sansa came closer, and Sandor had sudden wild thought that she was destined for the empty seat next to him. No, that was something that happened in some buggering movie. He watched, feeling increasingly uneasy, as the girl halted her steps, staring at him with her pretty blue eyes and pink mouth open. "Oh!" Then her eyes glanced at the numbers above his head and she reddened. Sandor snorted. "Would you like the window seat, Little Bird?" Sansa's face flushed again, and she gave a weak nod. "Yes please." He held back another snort, but picked up his coat and stood, moving into the aisle. Sansa slid past him into the window seat, and he sat down again next to her.

Her shock worn off, she suddenly gave him a smile. "How are you, Sandor?" she asked, stowing her purse at her feet. "I had no idea you'd be all the way up North." _No one does_, he thought. "I'm fine," he answered gruffly, unused to her smiles. The past year that she had dated Joffrey, she could barely look him in the face, even when he gave her advice about handling Joffrey's increasingly violent mood swings. His scars and imposing figure frightened most people, and why should she be any different? But now, sitting here on a stuffy airplane, their faces a foot apart, she was looking him in the eye and smiling. It was unreal.

He cleared his throat, eager to hear her speak again. "Coming home?" "Yes," she nodded, smoothing her hair. "For Christmas break. I can't wait." She smiled at him again, and he fidgeted. No one made him uncomfortable, ever, except for Sansa Stark. Even back when she trembled around him and chirped nonsense whenever she would reply to his comments, he had felt drawn to her. She was beautiful, sweet and kind to everyone, and innocent, and even though she was dating Joffrey, his boss, Sandor had become attracted to her, then enthralled by her. And it alarmed him. So he had put up a steely front, only advising her when he absolutely couldn't bear Joffrey's treatment of her any longer, and watching out for her from a distance. She would never reciprocate his feelings, Sandor knew well-enough, but that didn't stop him from desiring her.

When she announced her plans to go away for college, Sandor had been both relieved and upset. Relieved that now maybe she would stop tormenting him, but upset because it meant he wouldn't see her very much anymore. Then he'd chided himself. Stupid, foolish, old dog, pining after her like some love-sick fool. He should be glad to no longer be unnerved by her presence.

The two sat silently as these thoughts floated around Sandor's head, and he couldn't resist the urge to glance at her. Sansa had rested her head back and was staring at the front of the plane, hands folded in her lap. "Nothing else to chirp about?" Sandor prodded. He couldn't resist teasing and mocking her back in King's Landing, watching her blush and stammer as she tried to form a polite sentence. It was his own personal vengeance against her, for making him want her.

She still blushed, but she turned her head and met his eyes once more. "I thought you always said my chirping was annoying," she answered lightly. "Have you changed your mind?" Sandor stared at her, eyes narrowing. Where had this come from? Had she forgotten who she was sitting next to? "Not in the least," he replied, his eyes drifting down to her mouth. He let his own twitch at the sight of her pretty pink lips. Sansa contemplated him quietly for a moment, then she grinned. "You haven't changed a bit. I'm glad."


	2. Chapter 2

Sandor

The girl's comment threw him off. She was glad he was still a bitter, gruff old dog? He stared at her. "Don't look so suspicious," she giggled softly. "It's nice to see you, truly." Now he was even more confused, but Sandor wasn't about to let her know that. "Well, you've certainly changed," he growled back, leaning towards her. "Used to be you could stand my ugly face, much less speak two words to me." Sansa's smile faded, and she looked troubled. "I know. I'm…I'm sorry for that." She sighed, and rested her head against the seat. "You were always kind to me in Kings Landing, and I never showed you much gratitude, did I?" Sandor snorted. "Spare me your apologies. I'm not kind. And I don't want gratitude." It was a lie, but this girl was quickly latching herself under his skin once more, and Sandor both hated and reveled in the feeling.

"What do you want?" she asked. _You'll never know_, he thought, and let the question hang in the empty air. This time he turned away from her.

They sat in silence until the plane began to move towards the runway. The fasten seatbelts light turned on, and Sansa fumbled in the sides of her seat, looking for the belt before clipping it together. She took a deep breath and gripped the armrests. Sandor watched her, curious. Was she afraid of flying?

The plane was soon climbing into the sky, and the girl relaxed her grip. Sandor chuckled, and she whipped her head around at him. "What?" "I was just thinking that it is ironic that the little bird is afraid of flying," he rasped. She rolled her eyes. "I'm not afraid of flying," she scoffed. "It's only…the take-off I don't like." He smirked at her, knowing his grin must be hideous. She huffed and began taking off her coat, revealing a soft grey sweater flecked with embellishments and pulled over a white collared shirt. She folded the coat up and laid it on top of her bag, then turned to him. "Are we going to pick at each other the whole flight, or shall we enjoy each other's company?" she asked. Sandor snorted. "Don't bother with your pleasantries, girl. As if anyone could enjoy my company." He hadn't meant to sound so bitter, but it was true. Not even the Lannisters truly liked him. All they wanted was his skills for protecting and killing.

"I do," she said softly, shattering through his thoughts. "When you're not being such a stick in the mud." He stared at her, then threw back his head gave a barking laugh. "The bird's grown some claws, I see." The smile returned to her face, and she settled in her seat more comfortably, angling her body towards his. "So, what brings you so far North?" she asked. He shrugged. "Business for the Lannisters. Nothing more." At the mention of his bosses she suddenly seemed nervous. "Oh." She started twisting a section of hair around her finger as they started to lapse into silence again. "How's school?" he asked.

Her face perked up again, and she chatted about her various subjects and her teachers and her new friends in her sorority, with Sandor injecting a few questions here and there. It was the longest conversation they had ever had, and Sandor was surprised at how at easy it was to talk to her. She looked him in the face and smiled and laughed, as if she was speaking with some long-time friend. He had no idea what it was all about. Had a few months at college really changed her that much? She was still sweet and polite, but some of her shyness had worn off, and she acted genuinely interested in their conversation. And in him.

Eventually a flight attendant rolled up with a cart and asked if they wanted anything. Sandor asked for a beer and Sansa ordered a coke. When their drinks were served he ignored the plastic cup and tilted his head back to take a swig from the bottle. Sansa ignored the cup as well and gave a dainty sip from her soda can. He watched intently as she licked a drop from her bottom lip. "So…how are things in Kings Landing?" she asked, breaking him out of his trance. "Same as always," he shrugged. "But I'm sure Joffrey keeps you up to date on everything." That seemed to hit a mark, for Sansa frowned slightly and shifted in her seat. "Not really…he and I…we haven't talked much," she admitted. _Yea, he's been too busy chasing tail_, Sandor thought. He had not been blind to Joffrey's indifference to his now long-distance girlfriend, choosing instead to busy himself by hooking up with slutty, money-hungry girls draped in fake jewelry and too much lipstick. None of them held a candle to Sansa. Sandor wondered if she knew of her boyfriend's behavior.

"Really? Well, you both have been busy," Sandor commented casually, hoping to that she would divulge more information to him. Sansa nodded absently, tracing the tab on the can. "I guess." She opened her mouth like she was about to say something else, then shut it, casting him a worried and unsure glance. "What is it?" he asked. She bit her lip. "Look, you know I'm not going to say anything," he continued, placing his arm on the armrest and leaning towards her. "You know you can tell me." He hoped he was coming off as an available and open confidant, and not as a creeper. Like Littlefinger. Ugh.

Sansa relaxed a bit, and leaned forward as well. There was really no need to whisper, no one else on the plane knew who they were or what they were talking about, much less actually listening. But Sandor was not going to protest their closeness. She licked her lips nervously. "I…I think I'm going to break up with him," she confessed, and immediately tensed, waiting for his reaction. He blinked at her. "You think?" She faltered, then nodded. "Yes. I mean…" She took a deep breath. "I am. I am going to break up with him." The words were like music to his ears. He let his mouth twitch. "Well it took you long enough. I could have told you to. In fact, I think I did, once." He rubbed his jaw and eyed her.

She sighed. "You did. I just…I was afraid to, I guess. His temper…" she trailed off, but it was fine that her sentence was left unfinished. Sandor knew what she meant.


	3. Chapter 3

Sansa

She had no idea why she was opening up to this man…well, actually she did. He was the only one that had ever stuck up for her around Joffrey, had ever tried to warn her or give her advice. It made sense that she could talk to him about this. He knew what Joffrey was like: abusive and cruel. Everyone else pretended to not see what was happening, except for Arya; she had hated Joffrey almost immediately, and it had caused a serious rift in their relationship as sisters, even when Sansa could finally admit to herself that Joffrey was not only aterrible boyfriend, he was a terrible person as well. Her parents looked worried at times, but neither would say anything. Sansa had felt trapped, which why she had eagerly accepted a transfer to a college far away, back North, where her family used to live.

Sansa knew that Joffrey had been cheating on her. She had seen texts from other girls, and more than once Joffrey had called while he was drunk, saying he was out partying with girls and that she was missing out. In the morning, or the next day, he would text or call and pretend nothing had happened, and so did she. What good would it do to bring it up to him, anyways?

Living at a university, away from family and the few friends she had made in Kings Landing, Sansa had felt her head begin to clear. She noticed how her roommates and the other girls on her hall had great relationships with their boyfriends, and it made her feel wistful more than jealous. Why couldn't she find someone to be with like that? Why did her boyfriend have to be a total jerk? She made friends with some guys in her classes, but even though most them had shown interest in her, she had remained faithful to Joffrey. She would not stoop to his level. Besides, Sansa had begun to lose interest in these boys. Ones that she would have thought handsome and charming now seemed too young, too brash, too full of themselves. Sansa wanted someone older more mature…though she wouldn't able to have that unless she broke up with Joffrey. A foreboding task.

It was something she had been contemplating the past few weeks, amidst studying for finals. She could use the excuse of distance, though that wasn't really the problem. The scary part was actually telling him, and not knowing how he'd react. Sansa was fearful of his anger, having been on the receding end of it many times before. Perhaps she could find a public spot to break up with him?

Playing with a loose thread on her sweater, Sansa glanced back at Sandor, who had let his gaze drift to the seat in front of him. He looked very much the same as she had last seen him months ago: same dark hair that looked like he ran his hand through it instead of a comb, same dark, brooding eyes that always seemed to know exactly what she was thinking, same clenched jaw with scattered stubble…same scars. Sansa realized how foolish she had been, to be afraid of his scars. Sure they weren't pleasant to look at even now, but they weren't unbearable, and the other side of his face was comely, in a rugged, harsh kind of way.

His head swiveled towards her. "See something you like?" he teased. She blushed and her face grew hot. "I was just…seeing if you've changed," she stammered, trying to ignore the strange fluttering in her chest as he leaned towards her. "You said already that I haven't changed," he smirked. Sansa squirmed in her seat. Sandor Clegane had always made her nervous and unsure of herself, but she had thought that being away for a while would have changed that. Apparently not.

Unable to think of an answer, she shrugged, giving him a nervous giggle and hoping he would drop the subject. It seemed to work, and he leaned back, though the smirk still pulled at his mouth. Sansa smiled in relief, and took another sip from her soda. The seat-belt light went off, and a flight attendant announced that they were now free to use electronics. Sansa pulled her iPhone out and typed her mother a quick text, telling her she was in the air and should be landing in a few hours. Out of the corner of her eye she saw that Sandor had also pulled his phone out, swiping his thumb up and down as he read the screen. An idea popped into her head. "Hey, let me have your number," she said. Sandor's eyes snapped up to her in surprise. "Why?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. Sansa mentally kicked herself. "Well…I like to have my friends' numbers," she began slowly, wishing he would just agree and move on. "We are friends, aren't we?" she finished timidly. Sandor regarded her for a moment, a curious expression on his face, before he allowed a faint grin. "Sure, little bird, we're friends." He told her his number and she sent him a text so that he would have hers.

Feeling triumphant, she settled back in her seat, smiling. "What?" Sandor asked. "I'm looking through my music so I can set a ring tone for you," she answered. She knew she was being a bit flirty, but she didn't care. She was going home for Christmas break, she was finally going to be free from Joffrey, and she felt like relaxing and having fun. Besides, Sandor had flirted with her earlier. _Two can play that game_, she thought.

A/N: In case anyone hasn't noticed, I plan on keeping these chapters mostly short and sweet. They may get longer as the story goes on, but it's just easier right now, with the larger fics I'm working on. Hope you enjoyed a little of Sansa's POV!


	4. Chapter 4

Sansa

Sansa picked a ringtone out, then she discreetly tried to angle her phone so she could take a picture of him, so that it came up if he called her. Sandor caught on quickly though. "What the hell are you doing?" he grumbled, holding his hand over her phone. "What? It's just a picture," she giggled, trying to pull his hand away. "I don't like having my picture taken," he growled, frowning. Sansa stopped struggling. "It's just for when…I mean if, you call me. Your picture comes up. I have it like that for almost everyone." She bit her lip, hoping she hadn't offended him and ruined the familiarity that had begun forming between them. She didn't want to spend the rest of the plane ride with him sulking and ignoring her.

Sandor scowled for a moment, then sighed. "Fine. But if you're going to take one, then it's going to be of me drinking a beer," he rasped, and lifted the bottle to his lips to take a swig. Sansa laughed and quickly took the picture. "Very nice." She was busy setting it when her phone buzzed and message from Joffrey popped up. With a frown, she swiped the screen and read it. "When do u land?" An innocent enough question, though Sansa knew he probably only wanted to know so that he could make an excuse not to be at the airport to welcome her home. Not that she minded.

She texted back, "A few hours. Gtg." Her mood ruined by Joffrey's intrusion, however slight. "Everything alright?" Sandor asked as he stuffed the empty bottle into the flap of the seat in front of him. Sansa copied him with her can. "Yea…just Joffrey." Sandor nodded, and they shared a look that meant mutual distaste for the blond haired boy.

For a while the plane ride continued in silence, with a few snatches of conversation here and there. Sansa was pretty tired from studying and taking all her exams, and she curled up in her seat, wishing she had brought her blanket as a carry-on. Sandor looked even more tired; she could see purple under his eyes and he yawned often. It didn't surprise her when he finally drifted off to sleep, so she contented herself with looking out the window. There wasn't much to see, though, and she grew restless, fidgeting in the seat. She glanced at Sandor. His head was back, eyes closed, and he was breathing deeply. Sansa decided to take the opportunity to study him again without interruption. She examined his face again, then trailed down to his neck, which was thick and covered by a scattering of hair. His grey sweater was cut simply, but it hugged his large frame, and Sansa could make out his muscles straining against the fabric, even as he was relaxing. Swallowing, she let her gaze drift lower, and she saw that he had left his phone on his leg.

Before she realized what she was doing, Sansa reached over and gently took his phone, praying that he wouldn't wake up and that it would be unlocked. Slowly she leaned back into her seat, and didn't move until she was sure he was still sleeping. Then she looked at the phone.

It was an Iphone as well, but an older model. Black, with a black case, and she could see a few scratches and chinks here and there. Evidence of the kind of work he did. She pressed the center button, and the screen lit up. It was unlocked. _He forgot!_ she thought excitedly, then stopped. What was she doing? Was she really snooping around on the Hound's phone? For a moment she was torn between putting it back on his leg or continuing. Curiosity won.

She decided she would stay away from his texts. She didn't need to know anything more about his job, or see anything from Joffrey. He had very few apps, no games, or anything else that suggested he used the phone for more than a necessity for work. The background was a simple, faded blue. Sansa tapped the pictures icon, and was surprised when the folder came up empty. Another idea popped into her head, and she barely held in a giggle.

Sandor

A little ding sounded overhead, and Sandor snapped awake. "Attention, ladies and gentlemen, we will be landing in about twenty minutes. Please be sure to…" the female voice trailed off into directions, and Sandor blinked, trying regain his focus as he looked blearily around the plane. Everyone else seemed to be waking up to, from the sounds of yawns and groans. He felt stiff, but knew the nap had been worth it.

He was about shift in his seat when he finally noticed a pressure on his left shoulder, and red hair entered his vision. Sansa's head was resting on his shoulder. Stunned, he gazed down at her. Never had he expected this to happen, and he wasn't sure what to do at first. He knew she needed to wake up since they were landing, but it felt…nice, having her head resting on him. And warm. Her hair smelled liked roses.

Carefully, he reached a hand up and softly moved a few strands out of her face. "Little Bird," he murmured. "We're landing soon. Time to wake up." Sansa made an incoherent sound and shifted. "Five more minutes," she mumbled. Sandor chuckled. "Alright." A small smile graced her lips, and she settled onto his arm again. Sandor noticed his phone was sitting on his knee, and, amazed that it hadn't fallen off while he slept, he tucked it into his pocket. He blinked a few more times, trying to wake up and stretch without disturbing Sansa. Looking down at her again, he regretted spending the precious time he had with her by sleeping. It was doubtful he would ever get a chance to sit and talk with her again, especially once she broke up with Joffrey and was cut off from that family perhaps forever. The thought of never seeing her anymore caused a mixture of anxiousness, anger, and possessiveness to blossom inside his hard heart, one that had been as impenetrable as a steel fortress until Sansa came along.

_You know you'll never have her_, the bitter voice in his mind whispered. _She's not meant for you, never was, never will be. _Shaking his head, he decided five minutes had gone by. "Wake up, Little Bird," he rasped, and poked at her arm. Sansa gave another groan of protest, but this time she sat up. She stretched, and the bottom of her sweater scrunched up, letting a small sliver of creamy skin be exposed. Sandor quickly averted his eyes. _Stupid_. The girl noticed nothing as she continued to stretch and rearrange herself. She glanced at him sleepily and smiled. "Thanks for letting me use your arm as a pillow." He grunted in reply, unwilling to let her know how much he'd enjoyed it.

The seatbelt light turned on, and the clicking of metal was heard all over the plane as passengers prepared themselves. Sansa peered outside and put her coat on. "Oh, look! I can see the airport!" she said, gushing like a child on their first plane ride. Sandor allowed the corner of his mouth to twitch as he watched her growing excitement, though the jealous feeling continued to gnaw at him. She was going to be surrounded by her family shortly, and he was going to be forgotten. _It's your fault you're behaving like a love-sick puppy_, he berated himself. Just because the girl had flashed a few smiles at him didn't mean she had developed any sort of attraction for him. For all he knew, this was how she interacted around everyone now.

The landing went smoothly, and Sansa was practically bouncing in her seat as she waited for their turn to move into the aisles. As soon Sandor stood up, people behind them took a few steps back, allowing them plenty of room. Sansa grabbed her bag and he moved so that she could go first. He could hear the wind blowing against the metal tunnel as they exited and walked down a narrow hallway. Not having any carry-ons with him, Sandor simply put on his coat and shoved his hands in the pockets, resisting the impulse to place his hand on Sansa's back and steer her around the other trudging passengers.

They had to wait for a minute on their way to the gate, and Sansa turned to him, her eyes sparkling. 'Thanks for keeping me company on the plane," she said, shy again. She reached out and placed her cold little hand on his arm. _Here we go_, he thought_, here's where she'll chirp her goodbyes and never see me again. _"I really did enjoy talking to you, Sandor," she said softly. "Maybe we can…get coffee or sometime?" Sandor stared at her, dumbstruck. He hadn't expected her to actually want to hang out with him again. What did she want? _Answer, you idiot!_ "Okay." _Smooth. _Sansa smiled warmly again. "I'll call you sometime," he added quickly, hoping he didn't sound nervous like some high school boy. "Yes! Please do," she answered. The line began to move, and moments later they were entering the airport, and Sandor watched as Sansa spotted her family gathered nearby and ran over to them. They laughed and pulled her into a dozen hugs. Sandor had stepped away, going along with the rest of the crowd so he wouldn't be seen, and after a moment Sansa was no longer in sight.

Wanting to get his suitcase before the rest of the Stark family came, he hurried to the luggage claim, which had thankfully begun running the belts. While he waited, he pulled out his phone to let Cersei Lannister know he was back and would get a taxi to the mansion. As the screen lit up, he froze. What the- He quickly swiped his thumb, and was greeted by a picture of Sansa, giving him a sweet smile. He stared at it. She had taken a selfie with his phone and set it as his wallpaper? What was she thinking? When had this happened? Then it hit him. She must have taken his phone while he was sleeping. Angrily he glanced through his files, checking the times with a security feature he had. None of his emails or texts or anything else important had been touched. He eyes spotted the pictures folder, which now informed him that he had ten photos.

Sweat appeared on his brow as he tapped the screen and was greeted with a collection of other pictures of Sansa, smiling or making goofy faces. In one of them she had even taken a picture of herself and him while he slept! Sandor didn't know whether to be upset or amused. The girl hadn't meant nay harm, he supposed. But now what to do with the pictures? Should he keep them, a sweet torturous reminder of her?

After a minute of consideration, he dialed Cersei's number, left her a voicemail, then stuck the phone back in his pocket. His suitcase came around, and he picked it up, heading for the sliding glass doors that barely kept the cold wind from swirling inside.


	5. Chapter 5

Sansa

Seeing her family again was wonderful. Sansa had missed them so much and even though she enjoyed college, there was no place quite like home, even if their home had been in the South for a few years.

She was swept into their arms, laughing and talking loudly over one another, and eventually they made their way to the luggage claim. Everyone had come to see her, and Sansa felt she was bursting with happiness. Even Arya hugged her and started telling her about stuff she had missed while being away. Bran almost dropped both his crutches in his eagerness to give his older sister a hug.

They picked up her bags and headed out to the parking lot. King's Landing rested on the Georgia-Florida line, but winter had been particularly cold this year and Sansa was not surprised to feel the chill in the air, and was thankful she had put her coat on before de-boarding the plane. Their breaths frosting like dragon's smoke, the Starks piled into the silver Escalade and headed for home. Sansa squeezed in the middle row between Arya and Rickon and Bran, while Jon, Robb, and Theon, their adopted brother, rough-housed in the back. Ned and Catelyn looked tired but cheerful, holding hands in the front seat. It was so perfect that Sansa was able to, for a while, forget that she was going to have to face Joffrey sooner or later.

"How was the plane ride, Sansa?" her mother asked. She hesitated. Should she mention Sandor? Why not? "It was fine. You'll never believe who I sat next to." "Who?" Arya asked, adjusting her seatbelt. "Sandor Clegane." Her mother gasped, and the boys quieted down. Ned looked concernedly at her in the mirror. "The Hound?" Arya said, disgusted. "What was he doing on your plane?" Robb asked, leaning forward from the back. "I bet Joffrey sent him to stalk her," Arya quipped. Sansa shook her head. "No, no, it was purely by coincidence. He was in the North doing some business for the Lannisters and just happened to be on the same flight," she said. Catelyn turned in her seat, a worried expression on her face. "He's a terrible man. Was he rude to you, Sansa?" "Oh no! Actually…" Sansa trailed off, trying to find the right words. Her family would never understand the strange connection she had with the Hound; she didn't even understand it herself. "It wasn't bad. He was very reasonable," she finished lamely. Images of his dark grey eyes gazing at her hungrily flashed through her mind, as well as how nice his shoulder had felt when she fell asleep on him. She was glad it was dark in the car so no one could see her flushed face.

"Reasonable?" Arya huffed, rolling her eyes. "He's a mad dog." "Don't call him that, it's rude," Sansa admonished, wishing she had never brought the subject up. "Why do you care," Arya grumbled. She saw her parents share a glance, but nothing else was said about it, much to her relief. Sansa couldn't deny that she felt some sort of attraction for the scarred man; in fact he had often popped into her mind while she was away. Seeing him on the plane, and being able to converse with him without the overbearing and watchfulness of the Lannisters, Sansa knew something was different. He was different, yet the same. Perhaps being away from the Lannisters, even for a short trip, lessened the anger and hostility he usually carried around his person like a black cloud. She decided she would think about it later.

The Stark house was old, built with red brick and white eaves on every window, complete with a wrap-around porch. It was not entirely unlike their old home in Winterfell, and Sansa had fallen in love with it soon after they moved. Arya discovered every secret nook and cranny, from the basement to the attic. As they pulled up the gravel drive-way lined with oak trees, Sansa could see that Christmas lights had already been put up. "You decorated without me?" she asked, half-pouting. "We saved the Christmas tree for you," Bran said with a smile, and Sansa threw her arm around him. Good old Bran. He seemed to be doing well, Sansa thought happily. He had been able to move from his wheelchair to crutches, and though the process was slow, he was certainly improving in regaining his walking.

The inside of the house smelled of cinnamon and pumpkin pie. Sansa barely had time to look around before she was knocked over by Nymeria, Greywind, Shaggydog, Ghost, and Summer, all wagging their tails and wriggling and barking. She laughed as they licked her face, and her siblings tried to pull them away. "They've missed you," Ned commented, helping his daughter up. "I've missed them," she said, attempting to pat each of them equally, as an old pang nipped at her heart. _Lady_. Then she walked up the stairs to her room, Robb carrying her bags as the rest of the family dispersed throughout the house.

Sansa loved her room. She called it the tower, since it was rounded in shape with large bay windows and a high ceiling. It seemed strange to be in it after living in a smaller room with another girl for the past few months.

"Thank you, Robb," she said as her brother plopped her bags on her bed. "Sure thing, sis." He grabbed her up in a giant hug. "It's good to have you home again, Sansa." Her heart swelled and she hugged him back. "It's good to see everyone, too. Tell them I'll be down in a minute. I want to change." Robb nodded and left.

After a moment, Sansa walked to her dresser, pulling open the second drawer and lifting out a pair of comfy sweat pants that she had left behind. From one of her bags she dug out a sweatshirt with the name of the university printed across it, and added some fuzzy purple socks. She would finish unpacking later. Sansa wanted to relax and enjoy the evening. She glanced around her room, noting how everything had remained the way she left it. The walls were still a light blue, and the long window seat held the same cushions and blankets she liked to snuggle up with while she read. Her eyes rested on the bulletin board and saw a picture of her and Joffrey together, taken at a party last summer. With a grimace, she took the tack out of it and walked to the trash can. Joffrey's smile looked smug and arrogant, as always, and she…she had the look of someone who smiled to hide their misery.

She dropped the picture into the wastebasket, then left her room to head downstairs, where the rest of the family was making hot chocolate and arguing over which Christmas movie to watch.

Sandor

_Bugger this buggering cold_, Sandor thought as he pulled up in front of the Baratheon's giant mansion. The bare minimum of Christmas decorations and lights hung from the eaves and windows, seeming out of place. They were symbols of joy and peace, two things the Lannisters were in short supply of, and it sucked whatever festive mood would have usually surrounded a Baratheon home. Unless it was Stannis' home. If Santa Clause was real, Sandor had no doubt that the man would receive coal in his stocking on Christmas morning. The thought made him chuckle dryly.

Leaving his bag in the car, Sandor trudged to the front door and let himself in. The calm and pristine interior of the house greeted him, all a farce to cover the true ugliness of what went on in there. After spending so much time in the pure company of Sansa, Sandor suddenly wished to leave as soon as possible. _Like you aren't tainted enough already, dog._ He could hear voices floating from upstairs, so he decided to go to Robert's study, to check-in, hoping the big man was actually in there for once. It would mean he wouldn't have to see Cersei, at least not tonight.

On the second floor he knocked at Robert's office door, and discovered no answer. _Figures._ Sandor sighed, then turned to walk down the hallways towards Cersei's study. He would have to report to her anyways, might as well do it now.

Cersei was indeed in her office, along with Myrcella, who looked less than pleased about something when he walked in. "Myrcella, we will talk about this later," Cersei said, her green eyes cutting to Sandor. The blond girl left the room silently, closing the door. Cersei gave Sandor a prim smile and made her way to the bar, where glass decanters filled with drinks stood waiting to be poured. "A drink, Sandor? You must be cold," Cersei offered, pouring him a glass before he answered. He accepted it with a nod of his head, swirling the contents before taking a sip.

The blond haired woman leaned against her desk, studying him and sipping her own drink. "Tell me, Sandor, is everything in place as it should be?" Sandor nodded, allowing his face to betray nothing. This was business. "It is, Mrs. Baratheon. The plans are in motion and await only the right moment." She gave him a tight-lipped smile and nearly drained all the liquid in her glass. "You have done well, Sandor. You may have the rest of the night off. Joffrey is at a party with Meryn. I'm sure he will not require your services until tomorrow." "My thanks." Her words were a relief. The last thing Sandor wanted was to see Joffrey at this moment. He finished his drink and set it back on the bar. "If that is all, Mrs. Baratheon, I will leave now." Cersei gave him a dismissive wave of her hand, her eyes far away and clouded.

Sandor exited the office, shutting the door behind him, and as he turned he saw Myrcella sitting on a chair in the hallway. At fourteen, the girl was as pretty as her mother, but more delicate and lacked the venomous streak the other Lannisters seemed gifted with. Sandor was actually a little fond of her and Tommen. They were good children, despite their parentage and the world they grew up in. Sandor figured it would only be a matter of time though before they too were polluted.

Myrcella gave him a weak smile, trying to hide her obvious frustration about whatever subject she and Cersei had been discussing earlier. Sandor gave her a nod and softened his look slightly, not that it would make his face any less hideous. Even Myrcella, grown up around him, had a hard time looking him the eye. The girl seemed to appreciate his efforts though, and offered a polite, "Merry Christmas", as he trudged down the hall back to the stairs, eager to go home and sleep, to be alone so that his thoughts could be filled with the memories of the little bird and her sweet smiles, a welcome escape from the poisonous Lannisters.

He drove to his apartment, which was not far from the mansion and in a fairly decent neighborhood, not that Sandor really cared. It was a place to sleep and keep his few belongings, a place for practical purposes. He had no use for worthless ornaments or frivolous décor. He fumbled with the keys for a moment before selecting the right one, and slid it into the lock. The apartment was as he had left it. To the right was his kitchen, and he tossed the contents of his pockets on the counter, but keeping the phone. His living room was combined with the dining room, holding a simple table and two chairs at one end and a large, over-stuffed couch at the other end. He pulled off his coat, yawning loudly as he made for the hallway to his room, which was also simply furnished, holding a large bed and dresser. A few articles of clothing were strewed on the floor, along with various weights that he used when working out.

He left the phone on his bedside table and went to the bathroom, going through the motions of taking a hot shower with his mind barely focused on the task. Once clean, he donned a pair of boxers and ran the towel over his shaggy hair. He glanced around the floor and found a bottle of whiskey that still had several swallows left in it. With a grunt, he lay on the bed and tipped his head back to revel in the liquid and the burning sensation it left down his throat, settling into his belly with a warm feeling. His hand closed over his phone and he plugged it in to charge before checking it for messages, then he entered his pictures file again.

He drank until the pictures of Sansa blurred and he lolled off to sleep.

A/N: Sorry this was really short. Life has suddenly become very difficult and I don't have much heart or energy for writing, so updates may take longer for a while. Hope you enjoyed it though.


	6. Chapter 6

Sansa

It was days like this that made Sansa really miss Lady. The Stark children were out in the backyard, throwing Frisbees and balls to the five wolf-like dogs, and a wave of sadness rushed over her as she thought of her sweet and beloved Lady. Soon after Sansa had started dating Joffrey, the Starks had had the Lannisters over at their house for a dinner party. All the dogs had been tied up in the backyard so as not to disturb anyone, but somehow Lady's leash got loose, and someone had opened the back gate…

The dog had run into the street and been hit by a car. Sansa would never forget kneeling next to Lady's body, crying and screaming and hugging the dead animal to her while everyone around her shouted. Arya had flown at the driver, trying to claw his eyes out. The man turned out to be one of the Lannisters drivers, and had come to pick them up under the impression that the party was over. It was some sort of mix-up, everyone said.

Later, Arya had snuck into Sansa's room and told her that she thought Joffrey was responsible for Lady's death. "What are you talking about? Why would he do that? You're just making things up because you don't like him," Sansa had hissed, unwilling to hear he little sister out. "I saw him go into the backyard during the party," Arya insisted. "He was out there for a while, then he came back in. A few minutes later, Lady is hit by a car. Coincidence?" Sansa had shouted then, telling Arya to go away. She refused to believe her.

Now, thinking back on the scenario with what she knew about Joffrey now, Sansa knew that Arya was probably right all along.

She checked her watch and jumped up from where she had been sitting on the swing set. "I'm off to do shopping!" she announced. "See you all at dinner!" her siblings waved and called to her as she ducked into the house, gathering her purse and keys and slipping into her warm, camel-colored coat. The mall was going to be crazy this close to Christmas, but she had decided to brave the crowds rather than pack all the presents and haul them onto the plan.

Her car was thankfully parked behind everyone else's, and she slid into it, wrinkling her nose. Arya was driving it while Sansa was away at school, and she wasn't the cleanest of girls. There was a suspicious looking McDonald's paper bag on the ground on the passenger side, and various empty cans of soda and energy drinks littered the cup holders. She sighed, and made a mental note to discuss her car's maintenance with her sister later.

Turning on some cheery Christmas music, Sansa drove to the mall, thinking about what she wanted to buy. The roads were busy but not too bad, and she reached her destination soon.

Joffrey had wanted to see her that day, but Sansa declined, using family time and shopping as an excuse. He grumbled at her, but she would not budge. She really didn't care if he got mad or not, since she was going to break up with him anyways, and it felt good to show him that she couldn't be pushed around anymore. _Thanks to Sandor, I discovered my backbone_, she thought, smiling as the hulking man's scarred face came to mind. It was a shame she hadn't taken his strange advice to heart until after she was already gone, but it was something that Sansa had thought of quite frequently. She hadn't heard from him since their plane ride, and Sansa wondered if he had taken offence to her using his phone to take pictures.

Managing to find a parking spot, she entered the mall briskly, head raised determinedly for battle. "First, Mother and Father." Catelyn Stark was always easy to shop for, and soon Sansa found herself in the Coach store, oohing and ahhing over the sales she had purposefully avoided when she was up North. She ended up leaving the store with a new purse for her mother and a wallet for herself, justifying it as a reward for her good grades this semester. Ned Stark was harder to shop for, but she decided on some nice silk ties and cufflinks. Her father was a business man and he went through a lot of suits.

Her brothers would receive videogames and other electronics. Sansa congratulated herself on checking out their collection before going to shopping so that she had an idea of what they liked. She didn't really play videogames unless it was something easy like Mario Karts, and the only electronics she was interested in were her Iphone and Macbook.

It was about one o'clock, and Sansa's stomach began to growl, so she made her way to the food court, intent on ordering some Japanese food while she tried to think of something for her sister. Arya was always a tough one to shop for, at least to Sansa. It would be so much easier if she was into girlish things; but a Coach purse or a Kate Spade watch would never do. And she didn't want to just get her a videogame like the boys. Sighing, Sansa ordered her food and sat down at an empty table behind a large potted plant, plopping the various shopping bags down on the seat next to her.

As she dug through the teriyaki chicken and noodles, Sansa casually watched the people milling about her, glancing at their bags in the hopes of inspiration for a gift for Arya, when her eye feel on a unmistakably large figure towering over everyone else. The Hound. She gasped, then watched intently as he made his way through the crowd, his face an unreadable mask as he stopped in front of the Japanese restaurant. Curious, she took the opportunity to observe him. He was wearing the same coat as he had on the plane, and stood with his shoulders set back and straight, a result of his military background. He looked the same as he always did, dressed darkly, hair combed over the one side of his face, a scruffy dark brown beard trailing over his chin and leading down to his neck. Sansa felt a funny warmth spread through her, and she decided she wanted to talk to him.

Pulling out her phone, she searched Sandor's number and texted him: "Look behind you J" She sent it and watched him eagerly for his reaction. After a moment he put his hand in his pocket and pulled his phone out, reading the screen, then his head whipped around, his dark eyes searching the tables until he saw her wiggling her fingers at him. He looked surprised, then his mouth twitched and he bent over his phone again. "Hey," he texted. She smiled and sent back, "Would you like to sit with me when you get your food?" Glancing up, she watched him read the message, then he met her eye and gave a nod.

The funny warmth ignited into excitement, and Sansa cleared her bags out of the way to make room for him. After a few minutes he sat down on the opposite side of the table with a plate full of food. "Hi!" she greeted him enthusiastically. He chuckled. "Hey, little bird. Shopping?" "Yes, and so far it's been a complete success," she informed him proudly. "I'm just stuck on Arya. She's always difficult." Sandor snorted as he twirled noodles around his fork. "Just get her a gift card." "No, that's too impersonal," Sansa sighed. "Are you shopping too?" He made a face. "Yes, his mightiness sent me to check out the prices on some things. He's too lazy of a bastard to do it himself." Sansa gave him a sympathetic smile and took a bite of her own food. "Well, I can help, if you like," she offered shyly. She felt bad that he had to do such a task, when it was Joffrey who should be doing the shopping.

The Hound considered her offer for a moment. "If you want to," he finally answered. "I don't…want to take you away from your shopping," he added quickly, almost sheepish. Sansa hid a smile. He was being so cute. _Wait, what? _"I would like to," she answered. "It's no trouble. I want to help." Sandor nodded, looking somehow relieved, then quickly shoveled more food in his mouth. They finished eating mostly in comfortable silence, at least on Sansa's part. The Hound seemed sort of fidgety, finding fascination with his plate of noodles and beef over indulging in conversation. Sansa didn't mind though. She knew the Hound wasn't a talker, and she didn't want to make him more uncomfortable.

When they finished and threw their plates away, and Sansa gathered up her shopping bags, looking at him expectantly. "Where to first?" Sandor glanced at a list on his phone, and named an item and a store. They headed for the east section of the mall, and Sansa was struck with how much easier it was for her navigate through the crowds with Sandor at her side. He was tall, powerful, and menacing, and people naturally parted the way for them. Even though it allowed them room to walk and get where they needed to go, it made her sad to think of the wide birth Sandor received from everyone in his life. Had anyone ever tried to get close to him and know him? Had he ever tried? Unbidden, tears pricked at her eyelids and she blinked them back rapidly.

After a few stops, they were headed for a music store when they passed a Humane Society pet store. "Oh, look at the puppies!" Sansa squealed excitedly, and she hurried over to the window, where five little pups were either sleeping or squirming over each other. Sandor joined her, and she saw him smirk a bit as he watched the animals. She placed her hand on his elbow. "Could we go inside and see the rest?" "Sure, little bird," he answered softly, and she practically pulled him inside the store, giggling over every dog in the various cages. At one end was an Alaskan Husky, and it was so like Lady that Sansa felt a hard knot form in her throat and she the familiar pain in her heart. "I think I'm ready to go," she said, after watching it for a few minutes. Sandor looked at her, concern pulling at his heavy brown, but he only nodded and led her out of the store.


	7. Chapter 7

Sandor

They were standing in line in Starbucks, and it was so crowded that their bodies were just touching. Sansa's back was to him, brushing up against his chest, and Sandor fought the urge to wrap his arms around her. She was so close he could smell her perfume: something soft and light and feminine, mixing with her own natural scent. It was difficult not to lean down and put his nose in her hair.

Sandor hated shopping, and always had. It was a waste of time to go to the mall and meander around aimlessly, leaving with more than you intended to spend. While he dressed well for his job (as Joffrey's bodyguard he was expected to not look like a slob), Sandor rarely went out of his way to buy clothes unless he absolutely needed them.

And shopping during the holidays, even though he was only checking price tags, was even more stressful and aggravating. But having Sansa with him changed everything.

They had not spoken a whole lot during their time together walking from store to store, but it was pleasant to be with her. Her cheerful smile had crumbled when they visited the pet store, and he watched concernedly as her shoulders drooped. She missed her dog, Lady, he knew. That whole thing had been a huge mess; the Stark children were close with their dogs, and it was no surprise that Sansa still felt pain after a couple of years. Wanting to lift her spirits a little, he saw the coffee shop and suggested getting a drink, remembering her addiction with the beverage. She had perked up at his offer, and gave him a grateful smile and a polite chirp of thank you.

Sansa turned to look up at him, breaking him out of his thoughts. "What are you getting?" she asked. Sandor scanned the red menu behind the counter. "Just a regular coffee. I don't like that fancy stuff." She giggled. "The fancy stuff is fun though! And they have so many good holiday drinks." Sandor just stared at her. "I'll pass." She rolled her eyes but smiled

Sansa ordered when it was her turn, but when she reached into her purse to fetch her wallet, Sandor stopped her. "This is on me." She opened her mouth to protest, then clamped it shut, a tiny grin pulling at her lips. Sandor ordered and paid, and they walked to the counter to wait for their drinks. "Thank you," she said shyly, biting her lip and looking up at him through her eyelashes_. She needs to stop that_, he thought, watching her mouth. "No problem," he said out loud.

Her drink came first, and he watched as she blew on it and took a sip. "Do you want a taste?" she asked. _Would I. _He gave an exaggerated sigh. "Fine." She giggled again and handed him the cup, and he took a sip. It wasn't bad, but too sweet. "What is it?" "Pumpkin Spice Latte. I always get it around this time of the year, because it's seasonal," Sansa explained, taking the cup back. That's when it hit him. Had they really just shared a drink from the same cup? And she hadn't minded at all…he shifted back and forth, half-expecting her to at least wipe the opening off or reach for a new lid. She did neither, and instead took a long swig out of the cup, licking some whipped cream from her lips. He swallowed, grateful when his drink came to distract him from her perfect pink mouth.

There was nowhere to sit, so they wandered back out into the mall. "I still have no idea what to get Arya," Sansa sighed, gazing around mournfully. "I guess I'll have to do some detective work." Sandor simply nodded, not having much of an opinion on the subject. The younger Stark girl hated his guts, and the feeling was pretty mutual. He had prevented her from beating the snot out of Joffrey one time at a party, and he had been on her blacklist ever since.

"So…how is everything?" Sansa asked. They found a table in an open area near the food court and took shrugged, turning his cup around and around in his hand. "Same as always. Watching his highness. Tasks for the Lannisters. The usual crap." Sansa nodded slowly, glancing down at her own cup. "Has…Joffrey said anything?" Sandor hesitated, regarding her closely. He wasn't going to lie to her, but he didn't want her to be hurt more than she already was Joffrey's abuse. "Nothing worth repeating," he finally answered. She nodded again. "He's mad I wouldn't hang out with him today." "Yea he was bitching about it when I left to come here." Sandor hadn't meant to bring it up, but he decided to ask her anyways. "Are you still planning on breaking up with him?"

She avoided his eye, and for a moment Sandor panicked. Had she backed out? "Yes," she answered. "We have that Christmas party in two days. I'm going to do it then." Relief spread through him, but he tried to appear nonchalant. "That's good." Sansa glanced at him curiously, chewing her lip again. "Have you ever dated anyone, Sandor?" He choked on his coffee, and lifted his sleeve to cover his mouth as he coughed. "Why would you ask that, girl?" She shrugged, giving him a playful grin. "Just wondering." He rolled his eyes at her and frowned. He didn't like where this was going, not one bit. Sandor had never really dated anyone; he had one night stands occasionally, and maybe saw some of them more than once, but he was quick to get rid of them. They didn't actually like him, he knew. Those women only wanted his money and the title of dating Joffrey Baratheon's bodyguard. Most women were too afraid of him and his scars to be approachable, unless they were already well into their drinks and didn't care what guy they ended up with that night.

But of course, he wasn't going to tell Sansa all that. "I don't date," he answered, hoping she would drop the matter. Her brow furrowed. "Why not?" He looked at her in frustration. "Because, that's why." "That makes no sense," she replied, crossing her arms. "I don't care if it does or not," he snapped. Sansa jumped a little at his angry tone, but her eyes narrowed. "You're so touchy," she fired back. "I was just asking a question." Surprised by her reaction, he huffed and looked away. A few minutes passed in silence, creating an awkward tension in the air. Sandor wondered why she didn't just get up and leave. She was still mad; he could practically taste the irritation rolling off of her as she glared at him.

Rubbing a hand over his face, he sighed. "Look, little bird, I don't date because there aren't exactly a lot of women lined up to go out with this ugly mug, ok?" There, he said. She better be satisfied.

She didn't answer at first, but the anger disappeared from her face, replaced by something like pity. He gritted his teeth. He didn't need pity, especially not from her. "Well…" she said softly, looking more embarrassed now. "That shouldn't detain you from finding someone. Beauty is only skin deep, you know." He snorted. "There's nothing 'beautiful' as you say, inside either, girl. You should know that." She gave him a sad smile. "I think there is." He blinked, gaping at her. _What?_

Suddenly her phone rang, and Sansa answered it quickly. "Hello? Oh, hey, Mom." Sandor leaned back in his chair, trying to unravel what just happened. The little bird thought he was a good person inside…clearly, she had overlooked his past because he had been nice to her every once in a while. But just because he had a soft spot for her didn't mean he was good. Sandor was a black, dirty scoundrel down to the core, and he knew it. He had killed lots of people, and even enjoyed it. He was involved in many of the Lannister's schemes. Sandor shook his head. The girl had either forgotten or chosen to turn a blind eye. The question was, would he let her?

A/N: Sandor, go for it!


	8. Chapter 8

Sansa She was stuffed in the corner of the wrap-around couch, the large piece of furniture a necessity for their equally large family. Cocooned in a fluffy Disney princess blanket she had had since she was five and a large pillow in her lap, Sansa felt comfy and peaceful. It was so nice to sit and enjoy a Christmas movie with her family, even if it was one they had seen a hundred times and could quote by heart. Bowls of popcorn were being passed around, and everyone had a cup of cocoa filled with generous helpings of whipped cream or marshmallows.

Ralphie was about to help his father fix the flat tire when Sansa felt her cellphone vibrate in her lap. She reached under the pillow and peeked at her screen. It was a text from Sandor. _Hey_. She bit back a smile, trying to ignore the rising butterflies in her stomach. Since their run-in at the mall yesterday, she and Sandor had texted back and forth about seemingly mindless things, but Sansa held on to every word. It was strangely exciting to be texting him, knowing that she was probably the only person he was relaxed around enough to let his guard down a little.

She responded with a _Hey, you_ and tucked the phone away. Her parents frowned upon texting during family nights, a rule that was grumbled about on more than one occasion, and Sansa did not want to be caught, but she also wanted to keep texting Sandor.

A minute went by and her phone vibrated again. Sansa read the screen stealthily. _How's family night?_

She suppressed a giggle and glanced around the living room. Her siblings were packed onto the rest of the couch, with a dog sprawled out here and there, and her parents were sharing Ned's giant easy-chair. They were so cute, Sansa thought. She hoped she could find someone to have such a relationship with one day.

_It's nice. We're watching A Christmas Story. Ralphie just got his mouth washed out with soap_.

She wondered if Sandor had ever watched Christmas movies with his family when he was little. She didn't know much about his past except that his horrid brother, Gregor, had held his face down in a campfire, and that their little sister had died in some sort of accident, with his parents following after. Sansa's heart ached for him. She couldn't imagine losing any of her family members or being enemies with them. Even though they fought sometimes, Sansa knew she was very lucky and blessed.

Her phone buzzed again, and after glancing around, she swiped her thumb on the screen. _Ha, Tommen is watching the same movie._ So he must be over at the Baratheon's. What a miserable way to spend the night before Christmas Eve, Sansa thought sadly. She suddenly wished she could invite Sandor over to her house. Despite what everyone thought, he was a way better person than Joffrey would ever be. She was pretty certain that Joffrey had a lump of coal for a heart. Sandor, on the other hand, seemed to be more like a diamond in the rough. The illustration brought a smile to her face, and she hurried to text him back. _That's cool. I wish we could hang out._ She sent the text and waited, feeling nervous. Was that being too forward? Surely not. They were friends, after all. And ever since the flight, Sansa had been unable to push away her growing attraction to the scarred man. There was something about him that was drawing her in, something that was wonderfully dangerous. He was the Hound, a large, violent, brooding man, but instead of making her fearful as those qualities once had, she found herself mesmerized and pulled in, her curiosity fueling this forbidden attraction.

He answered after a few minutes._ Me too. Guess I won't see you until the party tomorrow._ Sansa sighed inwardly. The party. The Christmas Eve party. Where she was going to break up with Joffrey. She had been "practicing" what she was going to say to him, but as the time drew nearer she felt increasingly nervous. She wished someone else could do it for her, but Sansa knew that she needed to step up and not be a scared little girl anymore.

She glanced at the text again and smiled a little at his words. He wished they could hang out too. _I know, I'm dreading it. Do you think you could try to be nearby? I don't know what Joffrey will do._ The thought that Sandor would be near for the break-up eased her anxious mind. He wouldn't let Joffrey hurt her, would he? _I will try_, was his reply. _Thank you_, she responded. _Np, little bird._ She smiled at that, and tried focus once more on the movie.

Later that evening as she was sliding under her covers, she plugged her phone in and decided to send another text._ Good night. See you tomorrow_. She set her phone on the night-stand and got comfortable. Her eyes slid shut, and she fell asleep without hearing her phone buzz in response. It wasn't until morning that she saw Sandor's text.

* * *

Sansa fidgeted with her dress and tried to calm her shaking nerves. Joffrey had texted her earlier that day, stating that he wanted her to come to the party a little early. Sansa had wavered, trying to figure out what she should say. She had finally told him that she could, but not by much since they were taking a family photo right before. Which was true. She hoped for the first time in the history of Stark family photos that this would take so long that she would have to ride with her siblings to the party.

Taking one last look in the mirror, Sansa took a deep breath. She was wearing a short, sleeveless fitted black dress that had a peplum gather at the waist. The top of the dress was ordained with dozens of gold and silver sequins, curving into a V-shape over her chest and spreading up to her shoulders. Underneath she wore black tights, since it was very cold outside, and had chosen a pair of solid black booties. The heels weren't too high and she wouldn't be in pain after only an hour of wearing them. It was a beautiful outfit, and Sansa had been excited to wear it, but knowing she would soon be facing Joffrey made her stomach clench.

She had chosen to leave her hair down and wavy, and kept her makeup light. Attracting attention to herself was not what Sansa wanted tonight, and she didn't really feel like loading on makeup anyways. "Come on, Sansa," Arya called from the doorway of her room. Her sister was wearing a long-sleeved, dark purple dress that looked good with her brown hair. She had combed her hair for once and was wearing a pair of black flats. Arya refused to wear heels. "They're death traps," she had stated on more than one shoe shopping adventure. "What if I need to run?" But she looked nice anyways, even with her arms folded and her mouth working noisily on a piece of gum. Sansa smiled at her. "That dress looks great on you, Arya." Her sister gave her a doubtful look. "Really? Thanks. Mom made me." "It was a good choice," Sansa said softly. The two girls made their way downstairs where the rest of the family was fidgeting with collared shirts and ties and hair.

"Alright, let's get this over with," Catelyn announced, instructing them all on where to stand by the Christmas tree. "You all know the drill. No pushing, shoving, bunny ears, or tongues." "That's no fun!" Robb called out, and Jon made exaggerated bunny ears over Bran's head, stopping only at Catelyn's death glare. Ned was setting up the camera on the tripod while the dogs lounged on the couches, barking suggestions and wagging their tails at their masters' antics. "Ok, ten seconds!" Ned called, and he hurried to stand in the back with Catelyn. They held their grins until the camera flashed. "Wait, we have to make sure!" Catelyn protested as the kids began to disassemble. She checked the picture. "Looks good!" "Hooray! Let's go party!" Robb yelled, laughing as Grey Wind ran beside him to the door.

The Starks piled into the Escalade and set off for the Baratheon's home. Sansa texted Joffrey to tell him they were on their way and to say she was sorry she couldn't be there early. He texted back that it was fine and she should come find him in the backyard. She texted Sandor next. _Here we go_. She didn't really expect him to answer, since he was probably busy doing security stuff, but he did. _Indeed. You'll be fine._ She clung to those words, hoping he was right.


End file.
